


Varnish

by MargaretKire



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: 16th Century Knight Ren, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hux slowly losing it, Lawyer Hux, M/M, Mentions of Mental Illness, New York City, Oil Painting as a Character, Sleep Deprivation, Soulmates, Tiny bit of Angst, Weird Technology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7043773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MargaretKire/pseuds/MargaretKire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux is your average successful lawyer until he brings home a 16th century oil painting entitled "Knight of Ren." He is a bit concerned, then alarmed, then extremely worried for his mental health when he cannot seem to be parted from the painting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Varnish

fan art for the Kylux Big Bang can by [paranoidkylo](http://paranoidkylo.tumblr.com/)

* * *

 

Mr. Brendol Hux II first saw the painting in a glossy brochure. He groaned at the smudges his clean fingers managed to leave on the shiny pages as he idly flipped through the photo reproductions of paintings and drawings up for bidding. He was killing time during a conference call between the firm’s lawyers. He had already said his bit, and was just waiting for an appropriate point to wrap it up and get them all back to work.

As he flipped through the pages, half paying attention, he suddenly stopped at the image of a 16th century piece going for a ridiculously high opening bid. Hux reasoned that it must have been the price that stopped him in his idle perusal of the catalogue. It surely couldn’t have been the painting itself.

Bren stared at the open page for a long time. He appreciated art from a financial investment standpoint, and liked to keep abreast of the hottest art up for sale. He had made a very tidy sum on each piece he had invested in so far. That was how he _knew_ that the painting he was looking at would not resell for a higher price than its opening bid.

Ludicrous. The price, the painting, even the story about it supposedly being discovered deep in a vault in Rome, _under the Vatican,_ for Christ’s sake. It was all preposterous. Bren threw the brochure down on the desk. He picked it up again almost immediately.

Hux ended the phone conference more abruptly than usual and checked his watch. If he left in ten minutes, he would just make it before the auction began. Scoffing at himself, he did some quick online banking, triple checking his current cash flow - which was substantial - before pulling on his herringbone coat and stepping out into the brisk New York City air.

The painting would be a disappointment in person, he reassured himself as he settled into his private car and instructed his driver to take him to the auction venue. He didn’t know why he was going through all this fuss just to roll his eyes in front of an obscure piece of junk and walk away empty-handed.

Bren found a seat in the small auditorium reserved for wealthy art collectors and their agents. He ignored all the other pieces. Another time, he may have been tempted by some of the small statues, but he wasn’t in the mood to buy anything today. He reminded himself of that as a large, framed canvas was carried out and placed on a heavy-duty easel capable of taking the considerable weight of the piece.

The drop-sheet was removed, revealing the painting beneath. Bren did not even listen to the opening price. He didn’t care. His hand shot up. It continued shooting up, until, with extreme relief, the auctioneer banged his gavel and cried “Sold!”

***

Bren had been waiting in his upscale apartment for the delivery men for two hours by the time he heard a knock. If he opened the door a little too quickly when the movers finally appeared, he tried to make up for it by showing little interest as he signed the receipt.

The first thing Hux noticed about his new acquisition, once he had closed the door on the delivery men, was it’s bulk. The portrait was perfectly life-sized, or perhaps a bit larger, as the Knight in the painting would have been taller than Hux, who was respectable 6’1”. Hux had heard somewhere that people in the middle ages were smaller than the average modern-day human. Maybe that was just an old wive's tale.

The delivery guys had helped him to hang the painting in its new spot in the hallway leading to his study. It stood opposite the doorway to the living room, and the lights Hux had installed bathed the painting in a warm light. Viewing the piece from the other room, it looked as if the Knight were about to step through the doorframe.

Hux swallowed. It was so much more lifelike than any painting from that time period had any right to be. The man portrayed looked like he had just turned his head, impatient to be done with the viewer and get back to the battle he had just been waging. His armor and sword were black and highly decorated, though not in a style that was familiar to Hux. He didn’t have the usual crosses and other symbols he might have expected to see. The designs were highly stylized, but the black on black paint made it difficult to make out the full design.

The sword the Knight gripped was a fearsome blade, stained red with fresh blood. It had an impressive crossguard and looked to be extremely heavy. Bren wondered if the weapon were exaggerated for the painting, or perhaps it was a decorative weapon, not meant for actual battle.

Hux leaned in the doorway and stared into the oil and linseed eyes in front of him. The face was… strange. Bren thought that the Knight could be Italian, maybe Spanish. Even Russian. It was difficult to tell. The face was refined, but it had an unfinished quality. The eyes were deep and soulful and the face was long and narrow leading to a white neck that tapered into broad shoulders. Though perhaps the width was an illusion of the armor.

The mouth was painted in such a subtle way, it actually looked like the Knight had just wet his lips with his tongue. The light reflected off the expressive mouth and Hux was fixated by the soft full lips.

He let his eyes drift over the painting for several more minutes, taking in the luxurious dark hair, the dark furrowed brows. With a sigh he turned away, and headed for the kitchen, Such extravagance. He had paid far more than the painting was worth. As he poured a glass of brandy for himself, he wondered for the hundredth time what had come over him.

Five minutes later, he found himself in the doorway again, gazing at the Knight in the black armor.

***

Hux had dozens of freshly pressed suits in his wardrobe. Not one of them cost less than a thousand dollars. This morning, he couldn’t make up his mind about any of them, and for the first time in his adult life, he felt like it didn’t really matter. He just grabbed the first one he laid his hand on - a dark gray with a very faint pattern to the fabric - and a pale blue shirt. He quickly did the knot in his tie, checked his longish red hair in the mirror to make sure it had it’s perfect, slightly tousled, but professional look that could win over juries when nothing else could, and walked out of the bedroom.

He averted his eyes from the painting as he passed it on his way to the kitchen, thinking as hard as he could about coffee. He ground the coffee beans and added them to the glass and steel drip pot that had been a gift from a Japanese client. It made the best coffee. He watched the dark brown drips fall into the clear glass and did his best not to think about the painting only a few meters away, gazing out into the living room from its spot in the hallway.

Once he was finally out of the door, he could breathe. He started gasping in the New York air like it was the purest, sweet oxygen. The doorman asked if he was alright and Hux just waved him off. His driver looked at him with concern, and although Bren had started breathing normally at that point, he assumed he was probably just as pale as he had looked in the mirror earlier.

Thank god for work. It pulled him in with its usual ruthless efficiency and Hux forgot all about his - _what? Mild panic attack?_ \- from that morning. He talked calmly to everyone, though often his words were cutting. He was rather good at reading the mood of his staff, and knew when to bark orders and when to be almost soft. For the most part, Bren was respected, even if he did not count any of his colleagues as close friends. It suited him. This life suited him. He relaxed into his busy day.

It wasn’t until he was settling into the backseat of his car that Hux felt the first unsettling stirrings in his chest. It felt like someone with large hands was squeezing his ribs, subtly restricting his ability to pull air into his lungs. He struggled against the phantom touch, feeling uneasy.

Once upstairs, Bren stood in front of his door, keys in hand, hesitating. He couldn’t describe the feeling. It felt as if someone was waiting in his living room. He could visualize opening the door and someone, something, would be there. It made his skin crawl. With a scoff and a roll of his eyes, he unlocked the door and threw it open.

The living room was empty. He let out a breath that he had not realized he was holding and shook his head at his foolishness. He headed straight for the brandy.

Bren was a very orderly, concise, predictable man. So when he found himself drinking in front of the painting with no memory of walking over and leaning in the door frame, he was concerned. Even more distressing was the realization that gazing at the painting had relaxed him more fully than the brandy had, and that he was _smiling_ at the damn thing.

Hux never smiled.

He thought about the title of the painting again. _Knight of Ren_. Hux had searched the term and had only found references to this painting and some vague speculation. Otherwise, nothing.

Hux took another sip, letting the amber liquid roll on his tongue. He felt… alive. Painfully, acutely alive. Like he had finally woken up from some long, submerged dream, able to see and feel for the first time in years. He savoured the taste in his mouth, as a feeling like electricity or adrenaline surged in his veins. It was warm and ever so slightly painful. He ran his free hand through his hair a few times, tucking the wayward strands behind his ears when, suddenly, his vision blacked out.

His whole body felt weightless, as though he was floating through a void. There was a pressure from inside, expanding, ripping up through him, painful and tight. A part of Hux registered that he had dropped his glass and could hear it shatter on the wood floor. The rest of him was preoccupied with staying upright.

The grayness began to lift from his vision, leaving him feeling like he had stood up too fast, the edges of his sight flaring with bright, swimming specks of light. He caught his breath as his vision cleared, the smell of spilled brandy strong in his nostrils.

 _Oh god_ , he thought, spinning around, _there’s someone behind me_. He nearly lost his sight again as the blackness threatened around his peripheral vision. There, in the living room, was a tall shape, dark and menacing, though it looked like a heat mirage rather than a solid form, wavering there half substance, half smoke.

“Who are you?” Hux demanded. A small part of him impressed that his voice came out strong and not as the weak chirp his current emotions warranted.

The thing in the living room fluxed and pulsed, real, not real, solid, unsubstantial. It grew suddenly, expanding until it blew apart. The edges dissolved and a charcoal mist scattered through the air. Then it was gone. Every trace, as though it had never been.

Hux wavered between going to investigate the spot where the thing had stood or running out the door. His brain caught up with him then. Where would he go? After what he thought he had just witnessed, probably the nearest psychiatric hospital.

Pulling himself together, he crept over to his couch. He wanted to see evidence that the specter that had actually appeared, half hoping that it had left a layer of ash scattered over the furniture and walls- anything to prove it had physically been there. But there was nothing.

That night he slept with the light on for the first time since he was a child. He used to get terrible nightmares and his mother always left his bedside lamp on, its low wattage painting soft shadows on the ceiling. He had eventually forced himself out of the habit, hating his own weakness even as a child, always seeking to be in control of his fear.

Hux calmed himself with the lie that it was more practical to have the light on, just in case the thing came back. And if he was losing his mind, which was also a distinct possibility, then maybe he wouldn’t seriously cripple himself if he could see where he was going as he flailed around like a maniac hunting ghosts.

***

Nothing happened for several days, during which Hux reassured himself over and over that he was perfectly sane. He made an appointment with a therapist for the following week, just to be on the safe side. He could always cancel.

He tried to tell himself that he had made the appointment because he had seen an imaginary phantom in his living room. That wasn’t the whole truth, however.

Hux was having a harder and harder time walking past the painting. Just that morning, he had caught himself putting on his tie in front of it like it was a mirror, and the other night he had fallen asleep propped up against the door frame where he’d curled to gaze at the Knight of Ren from the floor.

He remembered that angle now, as he finished a quick dinner in the kitchen. The lower vantage point had made the face look different, somehow. Softer. Before he realized it, he was back in the hall, this time with a pillow from the couch propped under his head as he lay in front of the gilded frame, gazing up. He calmed instantly, the buzzing that had been building in his head all day slowly receding. His eyes fluttered closed and then snapped open, looking back up at that unusual face that was always subtly different every time he saw it.

He fell asleep on the floor and woke up at six the next morning with a headache and a protesting back. All his innards felt like they had been stirred with a stick. He groaned and struggled to sit up. This was not going to work. He couldn’t keep doing this. He had to get a grip. It was just a painting, for Christ’s sake.

After the third time he had fallen asleep on the floor, Hux called a moving crew to help him rehang the painting in his bedroom, facing the bed.

Bren did everything he could in his bedroom after that. He only left to make coffee, get food, use the en-suite bathroom, and go to work. He brought his laptop into bed with him and set up all his chargers on the bedside table. He even placed the carafe of brandy and his remaining glasses on his dresser. He didn’t let himself think about it. At least he was getting work done.

***

“I can’t make it in today,” Hux said to his assistant Monday morning. “No, no, it’s not serious, but I need to reschedule today’s meetings. I will send the brief over along with my notes. We can start working up the background on Wednesday’s trial…” Hux droned on with a list of instructions, finally getting off the phone when his assistant assured him that everything would get done, even though he knew that his absence would be an inconvenience.

Afterwards, he got busy sending the promised documents and organizing his notes for the upcoming trial. It was simple enough. He already knew he would win the case. Hux Brendol II had an excellent success rate.

Half an hour later, documents sent, he decided that he required coffee. Strong coffee. He had been up late the night before, working, drinking and staring at the Knight of Ren. Mostly the latter, if he were being honest with himself, which he was loath to do after his inexplicable behavior.

It was while he was in the kitchen waiting for the coffee to drip that he finally acknowledged to himself that he would have to keep that therapist appointment on Thursday. He was shaking and it had nothing to do with his lack of caffeine and everything to do with the fact that every fiber of his body was screaming at him to go back to the painting.

Bren curled his hands into fists. He would not let this beat him. He was going to stay in the kitchen, get his coffee, and even make some toast before he went back into the bedroom.

He managed to at least wait long enough for the coffee.

Back in bed, breathing like he had just gone for a run, Bren stared at the painting and sucked in air, gasping. This was insane. It couldn’t continue.

He should destroy the painting. It was ruining his life.

The thought alone brought on such a bad anxiety attack, Hux couldn’t get out of bed for hours.

***

“Sir, are you sure you’re okay?” His assistant’s voice sounded genuinely concerned. And frightened. He had never missed a week of work before. Hux sighed.

“I will be. I’m more concerned about the consequences of my prolonged absence. I am sending another outline and I want Jones to take the case in my stead, so there will be detailed instructions…” Hux laid out the plan, and then hung up, exhausted. His eyes crawled instinctively to the painting.

“You are causing me a lot of trouble,” he informed the Knight. “I can’t just not go to work. You’re going to have to ease up a bit, okay?”

Hux knew what was going on. It was why he had cancelled the therapist appointment afterall. He did not want it confirmed, did not want it to become _real._

Mental illness ran in his family. Bren had never shown strong signs of it, not since his night terrors as a child. He could arguably be put down as being on the obsessive compulsive spectrum, but he had always harnessed that part of himself into useful pursuits. What he was facing now felt entirely different. It felt outside of himself, not within.

“Listen, I need to eat. I’m going to the kitchen. I’ll grab something and come right back, okay?” Hux slid out of the bed and walked to the doorway. The moment his foot passed the threshold he began to shake. “Come on,” he whispered. “Please? I haven’t eaten yet today. I only ate once yesterday…” Tremors racked his body. He crept back into bed, heaving a sigh of relief and frustration when the painting swam back into view.

“You’re going to kill me. You know that, don’t you?” The Knight gazed back at him, linseed oil and dark pigment flashing dangerously.

***

At first, Hux thought the dizziness was from lack of food and sleep. It was late Saturday night/early Sunday morning, and Hux lay in bed with the light on. He was holding a book and had his laptop open, but really he was just staring at the Knight of Ren.

Slowly, as though it were just a second wind, Bren started feeling better. His stomach stopped its incessant gnawing for a few blissful moments and he relaxed. His veins started a soothing hum, as though he had been drinking, although the brandy had run out days ago, and of course he hadn’t been able to leave to procure more. He was reduced to drinking water quickly out of the faucet in the bathroom with the door open at this point, and even that was getting difficult.

He blinked lazily at the painting, feeling happy. Such a strange sensation. Hux was often content, but he was rarely happy. The feeling coursed through him and he began smiling like an idiot at the painting. He let out a short laugh and shrugged at the Knight.

“See, I would like you a lot better if you made me feel like this more often,” he said conversationally. “Does this mean I’m allowed to go to the kitchen and-” Hux stopped speaking as his vision went black. At first he thought the power had gone out, but then he felt that odd weightlessness and the sense of someone cupping his ribs, draining the air from his lungs.

 _No!_ He struggled, barely feeling the sheets around him. What if that _thing_ showed back up? At this point Hux didn’t care if it was only a figment of his imagination. That thing was terrifying. He pushed with his legs and dragged himself more or less to the top of the bed and huddled blindly against the headboard. His vision popped with sparkling lights and slowly dissolved back into clarity, leaving him shaken and weak.

He heard it before he saw it, a keening sound from the foot of the bed. It was like electricity, like thunder, like screaming. It was what Hux imagined Hell sounded like. Or maybe Heaven. He made himself look.

The black form at the foot of the bed swirled as though caught in a violent windstorm, dark scraps of itself tearing away and then reforming. It shifted, condensing and expanding, pulling the atoms of the room apart, reordering them. Hux felt like he was being ripped in half. He told himself not to scream. He screamed anyway.

Then it was over. The pain stopped and Hux fell forward on his elbows, gasping for breath. He stared at his hands where they trembled in their grasp on the sheets.

Something at the foot of the bed shifted in the now silent room. A voice spoke to him, deep and resonant. Hux’s head snapped up, his mouth open as he stared at the Knight from the painting, standing right in front of him, asking him a question in a language he didn’t understand.

The painting was still there on the wall, looking exactly the same as it had before. The form in front of him doubling it in a fully rendered, flesh-and-blood version.

Hux tried to find his voice, failed, and just pointed at the painting on the wall. The Knight briefly turned his head, obviously not wanting to take his eyes of Hux in case he tried anything while his head was turned. The Knight faced him again after a quick glance, and seeing the look of utter shock on Bren’s face, let out a short laugh. His face crinkled up in a grin and he shook his head at Hux, and said something he couldn’t understand. Bren had never heard a language like that before in his life.

“Do you… understand English?” Hux asked. The Knight looked at him for a moment The smile was gone, replaced by a slightly disappointed expression. He lifted the edge of his gauntlet, looking at something on his wrist. He fiddled with it for a second and then looked back at Hux.

“Yes,” he answered with an odd accent, his brows furrowing more. “You don’t speak Basic, do you?”

“B-basic?” Hux stammered.

“Obviously not,” was the cold reply. “What year is this?” He looked around the room, his frown deepening.

“The year?”

“Don’t be stupid,” the Knight snarled, laying a hand on the hilt of his sword and taking a step forward, his armored knee striking the foot of the bed and jarring Hux.

“2016,” Hux replied, his eyes wide open. The Knight let out a howl of rage and spun around to face the painting.

“Too soon,” he said through clenched teeth. He unsheathed his black sword and struck the painting through with one swing. Hux cried out, holding up his hand as if he could prevent the disaster. The Knight pivoted back to face Hux, holding the tip of his blade up to Bren’s throat. “What did you _do?_ ” he hissed. “Are you a Jedi Knight?”

“W-what?” Hux asked. He could feel the edge of the blade where it threatened to slice into his skin. The Knight growled in disgust and dropped the sword from under Hux’s chin. He turned then and slashed at the remnants of the painting. He paused to catch his breath, his shoulders rising and falling under the heavy armor.

“So much effort… wasted,” he said calmly, before adding a few more heated words Hux could not understand. Then he turned and swung out the bedroom door. Hux stared bleakly at the remnants of the painting before scrambling out of bed and following him to the living room. The Knight had stopped and was staring out of the window, gazing at New York City still lit up even in the small hours of the morning.

He turned towards Hux, his eyes wide for a moment before narrowing again. He reached out one large gloved hand and gripped Bren by the front of his shirt. He gestured to the window with his sword.

“What city?” he asked. When Bren didn’t immediately answer, the Knight shook him.

“New York,” Hux managed, his teeth clicking together.

“New… York?” The Knight looked at him closely.

“Yes. New York City. In the United States?” The Knight still look puzzled. “Of America?” Hux added. The Knight seemed to recognize something about that and nodded.

“You will show me how to descend to the city,” the Knight said, steering Hux by his shirt to the front door.

“Wait,” Hux said, trying to collect some of his wits about him. “I’ll show you how to get down to the city, but I want you to answer some questions for me first.” The Knight snarled and twisted his hand more firmly in the material of Hux’s shirt. “Please?” Bren added.

The Knight stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether or not to run him through with the blade in his hand. Then he gave a curt nod. Bren breathed a bit easier, though still feeling like his life could end at any moment.

“You were _in_ the painting?” Hux asked. This was his most burning question, though not by any means the most important in the scheme of things. The Knight snorted.

“No.” He glared at Hux. Right. This was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated.

“So you, um,” Hux was having a hard time concentrating on his question with that armored hand clenching his shirt tight around his chest. He looked up into the Knight’s eyes. Nope. That wasn’t helping either. He squirmed a bit and earned another shake from the Knight. “How did you get here?” he finally managed.

“New York or 2016?” the Knight asked.

“Well, I was thinking my bedroom, but yeah, either of those answers would work…”

“I came through in your bedroom because that’s where you had the projection device.” The Knight seemed to think about that a minute before looking at Hux with a sharp expression. “Why was it in your sleeping chamber?”

“Because,” Hux responded, trying to pull out of the tight grasp and failing, “it wouldn’t let me leave.” The Knight stared at him for a long moment, even pulling back a step to look him up and down. Then he barked a sudden laugh, his face breaking into a brief smile that had Hux holding his breath.

“Show me the way to the city,” the Knight said, swinging Hux towards the door again.

“But-”

“No more questions. Show me.”

“But,” Hux persisted, not wanting to get arrested as soon as they set foot out of the complex, “your sword-”

“I will not leave my weapon,” the Knight said firmly. Hux fumbled the door open, and the Knight forced him into the hallway. He paused and looked quickly around before gently shaking Hux again, which seemed to be his way of saying to move forward. Bren guided them to the elevator, or was, in fact, practically dragged there sideways by the Knight, who still had a death grip on the front of his shirt.

When the elevator door slid open, Kylo pushed Hux in first as though testing to see if it was a trap. When nothing happened to his captive, he stepped in behind him.

“I can’t go out there without shoes, let alone a coat,” Hux complained. _Yes,_ there was a Knight standing here that had come to life from an overpriced painting he had gotten at an auction. _Yes,_ he was now being manhandled by said Knight and forced to be a tour guide. _Yes,_ he had not eaten anything  or slept in days. However, Hux absolutely drew the line at walking barefoot in February through the streets of New York City.

The Knight looked down at Bren’s feet as though weighing the consequences of allowing the delay now, versus the possibility of laming his guide. He looked into his eyes. When the Knight wasn’t frowning, they were almost warm.

“You said the painting wouldn’t let you leave?” he asked, a smirk on his face.

“I haven’t eaten for days, thanks to that bloody thing,” Hux grumbled. The Knight’s smile deepened for a moment, then dropped away as he hauled him back out of the elevator to his apartment, still clasping his shirt and dragging Hux along.

He waited while Bren struggled to open the door, and then pushed him inside. Once the door was closed, the Knight finally relaxed his grip. Hux felt his legs instantly give out under him, and the Knight grabbed him again, this time by his upper arms.

“You need sustenance,” the Knight said. Hux nodded towards the kitchen and the Knight helped him stumble over to a bar stool at the kitchen island. Once Bren was seated, the Knight turned around in a slow circle, as if trying to recognize anything that registered as _sustenance_.

“Just grab something out of the fridge,” Hux instructed, resting his chin in his hands. He was more exhausted than he had ever been in his entire life. It took a moment for him to register that the Knight had not moved, and was staring at him blankly. “Oh, um,” Hux spluttered. “It’s that metal thing right there.” He pointed. “It keeps food cold, so it lasts longer.”

The Knight nodded at that and pulled open the door. The light clicked on, and Hux suppressed a laugh at the sight of the Knight jumping at an automatic refrigerator light. He stared into the brightly lit interior for several minutes.

“All of this is edible?” The Knight asked, clearly skeptical.

“Um, yes,” Hux responded, “though a lot of it is supposed to go with other food, not eaten on it’s own.”

The Knight started grabbing items at random out of the fridge and pushing them across the island at Hux.

“What’s your name?” the Knight asked as he slid a jar of olives, a bottle of ketchup, and a stick of butter over to him.

“Brendol Hux II,”  he replied automatically. “But just Hux will do.” The Knight’s eyes flicked up to his and he nodded. He dove back into the fridge and came back with mayonnaise, pickles, worcestershire sauce, and lunch meat. Hux grabbed the jar of pickles and the lunch meat, deciding that was the closest thing to an actual meal he had been passed so far. The Knight closed the refrigerator door and leaned against the island. He scootched the stick of butter a bit closer to Hux, apparently thinking that was the best thing available and Hux should take advantage.

“What’s your name?” Hux asked around a mouthful of turkey, trying not to inhale it in his haste. Not receiving an answer right away, Hux said, “Your painting was entitled _Knight of Ren_.”

“That’s technically accurate,” the Knight replied, giving the butter one more nudge before abandoning the effort altogether. “My title is Kylo Ren.”

“Kylo-Ren?”

“It is two seperate names. I answer to either.”

“Okay. Um, are you hungry?”

“I am fine for now,” he shrugged, though he continued to watch Hux eat. Bren had finished the lunch meat and pickles. He cracked open the olives. Ren perked up and Hux slid the open jar to him. Kylo considered for a moment before carefully pulling his armored gloves off and gently fishing out a few olives.

“So cold,” was his comment, licking his fingers. Hux just shook his head.

“Where are you from?” Hux asked, pulling the olives back and finishing them off. He really needed to start buying larger jars of things. He felt steady enough to stand, and hobbled around the island to get a glass of water. He reached for the cupboard and suddenly there was a strong fist encircling his wrist.

“What are you doing?” Ren demanded, suddenly fierce.

“Getting a glass,” Hux said, his eyes wide. “Go ahead, look for yourself.” He nodded toward the cupboard. Kylo stared at him a moment, and then slowly cracked open the door, only to snort and fling it wide open.

“Drinking vessels?” He relaxed his grip on Hux’s arm but didn’t release it completely. He looked back at Bren and gave a sheepish smile. “I am not accustomed to a dwelling layout such as this. I apologize for my ignorance.”

“That’s alright,” Hux responded, his voice suddenly a little raspy. Kylo’s grasp increased for a moment and Hux hissed in pain. The Knight looked concerned.

“Did I hurt you?” He examined the thin wrist in his hand. He brought his other fingers over the red marks that would turn into bruises by the following day. “I’m sorry. I overreacted. I thought you were going for a weapon.”

“No,” Hux whimpered, cursing his voice when he heard how pathetic it sounded. Kylo turned his wrist over a few more times, gently stroking it.

“You are so fragile,” he smiled. “I will have to keep that in mind.” Something in Kylo’s voice made Hux’s vision fade at the edges again, and he steadied himself against the counter. Ren pulled a glass off the shelf, set it down, thought for a moment, and pulled out a second one and set it next to the first. “What do you have on offer? Wine? Mead?”

“I was just going to have water,” Hux said.

Hux turned on the faucet and again Kylo gave a start. Hux held the glass under the tap and then took a sip. He filled the second cup and Kylo looked at him doubtfully before accepting the glass when Hux handed it to him. He sipped and crinkled his long nose.

Hux chuckled. He figured that it was very likely he was actually alone in his apartment, having a serious mental breakdown, and talking to himself.  However, Kylo _seemed_ real. The bruises on his wrist _felt_ real, and so had being dragged around by his shirt. He knew it was foolish, but Hux decided to just go with it. All of this would be confirmed one way or the other eventually.

“Are you sufficiently recovered to go down into the city?” Kylo asked. Hux heaved a sigh.

“I can take you, but would you be willing to go tomorrow, after I sleep?”

“You have not slept?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Hux gestured to Kylo, indicating his entire being with a wave of his hand.

“The device wouldn’t let you sleep either?” Kylo was laughing again and Hux had the urge to hit him.

“It’s not funny. I could have died.”

Kylo sobered. “I suppose that is a valid concern. It was not my intention that anyone would ever come into contact with the device. I thought I had found a secure enough location in Rome. Apparently not as secure as I thought,” the Knight shrugged. “The plan was for it to travel forward in time, and for me to be summoned at the correct point.”

A hundred questions flooded Hux’s mind simultaneously. He tried to sort out the most relevant. It was not an easy task.

“Why a painting?” he finally settled on.

“I needed something to use as a durable disguise for the projection device. Plus,” he said, looking over Hux’s shoulder, avoiding his eyes, “I had never had a portrait painted of me before.” He gave a sheepish grin. “I was curious. Though standing still while it was painted was more than tedious.”

“I could tell by your face,” Hux snorted. “So, what year were you trying to reach?”

“At least the 24th century,” Kylo responded. Hux wanted more answers. He shuffled over to the fridge.

“I’m going to open this to get drinks,” Hux said, remembering the bone crushing grip.

“That’s fine. I’ve already seen inside the cold cupboard.”

“Well, that’s a good description of it,” Hux agreed as he rummaged at the back of the fridge and found a six pack he had been saving. He pulled it out and motioned for Kylo to follow him. He led the way to the couch and flopped down. He showed the Knight how to pop off the cap, and then started drinking his own beer.

They sat next to each other on the couch, watching New York’s many lights in the darkness.

“What’s in the 24th century?” Hux asked when he heard Kylo’s appreciative hum over the taste of the beer.

“This tastes good cold,” he smiled, taking another swig. “My partner is supposed to be waiting for me there.”

“Partner?” He hoped he didn’t sound jealous, because of course he wasn’t. He just didn’t want to _sound_ that way. Kylo gave him a sly look out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh yes,” he replied, barely repressing a smile. “We’ve been together a _long_ time.”

“I see,” Hux answered. Dammit. He totally sounded jealous. Kylo took another swallow of beer and laughed, leaning forward and punching Hux lightly in the shoulder, the black armor clanking as he moved. Hux would have wondered how he even managed to sit in such an outfit, but he had realized that the armor was mostly constructed of fabric and leather, and only had metal plating in strategic areas.

“My partner is a haggard old man whom I’ve not so much as shared a handshake with,” Kylo said, his grin lighting up the room. Hux hoped the relief did not show too plainly on his face. He could feel himself breathing again. “He was able to jump ahead in time before me, as we had enough devices to get him there by himself. There was only one left for me, so he was going to wait and pull me through at the other end.” The Knight heaved a sigh. “But somehow you pulled me through instead. Two hundred years too soon.”

“I’m sorry,” Hux whispered. Kylo did not seem overly distressed.

“I’m working on a plan,” Ren admitted. “This may turn out to be an improvement on the original scheme, anyhow.” He looked over at Hux. “It seems that the device rather liked your energy,” he smiled. “That is a good sign for me. In fact it tells me quite a few things about you. Things you obviously don’t know about yourself.”

Hux watched him intently. “Things I don’t know about myself?”

“Correct,” the Knight shrugged, not seeming to want to elaborate. He was finally looking more relaxed. He shifted a bit in the armor, before beginning to shed pieces of it. “This seems a little ridiculous now,” he admitted. “I had no idea what to expect, and this was the most, um, _practical_ outfit I was able to assemble from 16th century offerings.” He removed the vambraces from his forearms and set them on the floor by the couch. Then he awkwardly tried to get at the buckles on the leather straps that ran under his arms.

“Can I help you? Those look… complicated,” Hux offered.

“I had help getting all this stuff on. I figured I could cut it all off if I needed too. I suppose I can get better armor in this century anyhow.” He shifted so Hux could work the stiff leather through the buckles. Once the pauldrons and breastplate were off, Kylo flexed and groaned in relief.

The Knight wore a dark tunic underneath his armor. The sleeves reached his elbows and the neckline hung open. He was wearing something around his wrist that looked like a metal and leather brace. His shoulders were very broad. It had definitely _not_ been just the armor that had made them look powerful. His forearms flexed as he reached for another beer, and Hux swallowed audibly. If Kylo knew Hux was gaping at him, he didn’t let on. He just drank his beer in silence, pulling his feet up to sit cross legged on the couch.

After a few minutes of silence, as Kylo drank and gazed out the window, and Hux fought for control of his brain and stared at Kylo, the Knight shook his shoulder-length dark hair out of his face and smiled over at Hux.

“So, am I a disappointment?”

“W-what?” Hux asked, eyes widening. There was a tone to Kylo’s voice that suddenly made him uneasy.

“Compared to my portrait. You know, the one you nearly died for because you couldn’t stand to leave it.”

“That’s hardly fair,” Hux protested. “I physically couldn’t leave. It was like… like I was _possessed._ ” Kylo just smiled and ran his hand through his thick hair. _He really needs to stop doing that_ , Hux thought, reaching for a second beer.

“So, do I pale in comparison to the work of the artist? Did he flatter me too much?” Kylo persisted. Hux just shook his head in misery. “I assume you are staring because you are trying to work out how many ways I am inferior to the painting you loved so much.” He turned toward Hux. One foot went to the floor as he leaned his side against the back of the couch, his long arm resting on the top.

 _God, he was beautiful._ Hux pushed himself as far into the corner of the couch as possible.

“I wouldn’t call you a disappointment, no,” Hux snorted. “You were quite a surprise though. Typically people don’t step out of paintings.”

“Well, technically I didn’t step _out_ of it,” Kylo responded. “There is a device of sorts, between the canvas and the paint. A sort of skin of an ancient technology. It harnessed your energy and created a focal point for me to use my… gifts… and step through a rift in time and space.”

Hux tried to digest that. He asked an easier question. “Why did you destroy the painting? Couldn’t you use it again?”

“No. It was set to pick me up at a very specific point. I mean technically, I must have lived a life and died as the painting moved forward in time. You activated the device and pulled me through just a few days after the painting was complete, effectively erasing that other life.”

Hux’s jaw went slack. “I… _erased_ … your life?” Kylo shrugged.

“Probably wasn’t much of one,” Kylo responded.

“But, you could have had children,” Hux protested. “Oh God, did I erase an entire line of descendants? Your entire family lineage?”

Kylo just laughed. “I didn’t have any children, Hux.”

“How do you know that? You can’t possibly know that.”

“I’m pretty certain,” Kylo was still smiling.

“You mean you can’t or…”

“Oh I’m sure I could if I were so inclined to try.”

“Wait, so…” Oh. _Oh_. Hux could feel his face burning. He reached for another beer in an attempt to distract himself.

“Besides, if I had fallen in love and had a family and all of that, I could have destroyed the device. I knew where it was. The fact that I didn’t proves that I fully expected to forget that life. So look at it this way,” Kylo grinned. “You resurrected me. I am alive again because of you. Does that make you feel better?”

Hux sipped his beer. Well, of course it did. If any of this were really happening. Which he was still on the fence about.

The dark was just starting to diminish, the city lights not looking quite as bright as before. Hux blinked. Sipped his beer. Fought his bone-deep exhaustion. Kylo was talking. He wanted as many answers as he could get, afraid that if he fell asleep, Kylo would disappear.

“If you get pulled forward from this time… will you forget all of this?”

Kylo gave him a sad smile. “I can’t get pulled from here. I don’t have any devices fixed on me during this point in time. I only had the one.”

“If you hadn’t destroyed it, you would have been pulled from the past again? And this life, right now, would have been erased?”

“Theoretically.”

“But you destroyed it? Why?”

“It probably wouldn’t have worked a second time.”

They lapsed into silence.

“Where did you come from, originally?” Hux asked. He was fighting sleep tooth and nail, wanting more information.

“A story for another time, I think,” Kylo said, eyeing him. “You look like you are going to pass out.” Hux grunted in annoyance. He wanted answers more than sleep. “Do you need to secure the door?”

“It’s locked.”

“What is your nighttime ritual? Show me. I will assist you.”

“I don’t need help,” Hux complained, standing up and almost instantly crumpling back onto the couch. Kylo’s lips were pressed together like he was repressing a smile.

“Come on, blossom. Show me how I can help.”

“Did you just call me blossom?”

Kylo reached down and plucked Hux off the couch by his arms as though he were a child, and stood him carefully on his feet. Hux was worried Kylo would grab him by his shirt front again, but instead, he steered him through the apartment by his shoulders. “What first?”

“Water glass,” Hux answered, not willing to put up a fight. Kylo steered him into the kitchen to the glass still sitting by the sink. Hux filled it with fresh water.

“And now?”

“I would normally put this by my bed, then brush my teeth.”

“Brush your teeth? As in, clean them?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting. Well, I remember where your sleeping chambers are.” Ren marched them down the hall, and Hux set the water glass on the bedside table. He made the mistake of sitting on the side of the bed to reach his laptop so he could charge it, and was almost instantly asleep.

“Not yet,” Kylo said. “Teeth cleaning first.” He reached down again, and this time, swept Hux up into his arms. Hux gave an undignified shriek and fought for a second, before giving up and melting against him as he was carried over to the bathroom.

Kylo was incredibly strong. He wasn’t straining at all to lift him. The Knight’s shoulders were so wide… Hux lay his head down on one of them. This meant he could see Kylo’s neck up close. The skin was pale and spattered with smooth moles, like tiny droplets of ink. His dark hair was soft where it brushed against Hux’s face. He had an amazing smell. Hux leaned a little closer to the bare skin of the Knight’s throat. His scent was intoxicating. He wondered if he would taste as good as he smelled.

“You know you’re talking out loud, don’t you?”

“Hmm?”

“We’re in the water closet, Hux. We arrived here a few minutes ago. Would you like to do your teeth brushing now?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” Hux said, barely conscious. Kylo set him on his feet and Hux braced himself against the sink. He stared at Kylo in the mirror, not making any move to get started with the whole oral hygiene routine.

“How long have you been awake?” Kylo asked, narrowing his eyes. Hux shrugged.

“I haven’t had a full night in weeks, but um, the last time I slept? Ah, two and a half...maybe three days?” He tore his eyes away from Kylo’s concerned face and got on with the process of cleaning his teeth. When he was finished, he looked in the medicine cabinet for a moment and found a toothbrush still its packaging. “Here, in case you want to try it,” he said to Kylo. The Knight just nodded and then helped him back to bed, this time with his arm around his waist.

God, his arms were huge. Hux thought how easy it would be for Ren to bend him in half with that powerful body.

“Out loud again,” Kylo chuckled. Hux just rolled his eyes. No it wasn’t. He’d just thought those things. “Are you going to sleep in those clothes?” Kylo asked.

“Yeah, these are fine.”

“Then I will let you sleep.”

“Wait, what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes, aren’t you going to sleep?” Hux asked, struggling to stay upright on his own. His bed had never looked more comfortable.

“I will sleep in the other room, on the leather divan.”

“The couch?”

“Yes.”

“No,” Hux whined, feeling about as sophisticated as a five-year-old who needed a nap. “This bed is huge. Sleep in here with me. You won’t even know I’m in the bed.”

Kylo coughed and averted his gaze. Was that a blush?

“You’re not thinking straight. Your judgement is impaired with lack of sleep…”

“I refuse to let you sleep on that uncomfortable couch. I want you in here, with me. What if you disappear? I don’t want you to disappear.” Hux was working himself up now. He felt like he might cry if Kylo tried to leave the bedroom.

“I yield. I will sleep here with you. Now get under the coverlet. Where are the light controls?”

“By the door. On the wall.” Hux almost bounced into bed, happy with his victory. He managed to stay awake just long enough to register the bed dip as Kylo crawled in. He wasn’t nearly close enough, but he was there.

Hux plunged headlong into sleep.

***

He woke up alone.

Hux sat up before he was even fully awake. The painting was completely gone. No trace of it remained on the wall. Not even scraps on the floor.

He couldn’t help his cry of despair. It had all been some terrible, beautiful dream. His throat constricted. He began shaking, feeling the way he had when the painting had been out of sight. But no… none of that had happened. There was no painting…

The door opened and Kylo rushed into the room, the look on his face alarmed. He came over to where Hux sat trembling in the large bed and perched on the side of the mattress. He was dressed in the same black tunic and trousers he had been wearing under his armor. The dark waves of his hair hung around his face and his eyes were flashing as they met Hux’s green ones.

Only then, with Kylo close, did Hux realize he was crying. Hux curled over his knees as he brought them up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs, and sobbed. Kylo rubbed his back, and when Hux tried to lean into him, the Knight crawled onto the bed and situated himself against the headboard before grabbing Hux and hauling him into his arms.

Hux curled up on his side against the Knight’s chest, resting his forehead flush with Kylo’s warm neck. Kylo’s strong arms encircled him protectively. Bren took several long, shuddering breaths, finally calming down in the Knight’s embrace.

“I thought…” Hux said in a tear-choked voice, his lips moving against Kylo’s collarbone, “I thought I’d made it up somehow. That you weren’t real.” Hux screwed his eyes shut, willing the panic to recede. “Even the painting was gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Ren said, and his voice sounded rich and beautiful with Hux’s ear pressed against his chest. “I took all the pieces into the outer room. I was inspecting the remnants of the device. I suppose it was a rash of me to destroy it.”

Hux tensed in his arms. He wrapped one hand around Kylo’s bicep and held on. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” His voice sounded lifeless. What would he do if the Knight vanished? He closed his eyes again, the tears returning in a slow, bitter stream.

“Yes,” the Knight murmured into his red hair. “I need to get to the 24th century.” Hux curled up more into his chest, pressing his wet face against Kylo’s warm skin. He tried to hold back the sob that was trying to rip its way up through his throat. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling like this. It was insane. _Hux_ was insane. It was the only explanation. He just could _not_ let go of Kylo. “Hux,” Kylo said softly, “I want you to come with me.”

Hux blinked, trying to digest the words. His voice came out wet and mangled. “What?”

“I think it will actually be easier to make a rift in time together,” Kylo said. “And besides, I want you with me.”

“Why?” Hux managed. Kylo laughed at him.

“You never ask the right questions,” he said, angling his head to trying and a look at Hux’s tearstained face.

“What’s a better question, then?” Hux asked, annoyed but unwilling to let the Knight go.

“Hmm. How about, ‘O, distinguished Knight of Ren, Lord of time and space, please decree unto me thy wisdom and grace and explain thy divine plan.’”

Hux snorted and rolled his eyes. “Alight, O Wise One, please spit it out. Tell me how we are going to magically end up three hundred years in the future.” _This is crazy_ , said Hux’s rational side. _You’re crazy_.

 _Shut the fuck up, brain_ , Hux demanded, nestling closer into Kylo.

“Well, first I need to see how much of the technology I can salvage. I was a bit… overzealous… in its destruction.”

“When you say technology,” Hux said slowly, “do you mean like, some sort of sacred artifact or…” Hux trailed off, having no idea what a 16th century Knight would consider technology.

“No, I mean nano electrical technology set into a filigree of wiring.”

Hux shot up and pulled back to stare at Kylo. “What?” Kylo laughed again. Hux wanted to hit him. Hard. This was to much to take. He was definitely on the far side of psychotic. Not even his fantasies made any sense. _God dammit, Hux_ , he thought. _If you are going to have delusions this real, please have them make sense. Perhaps something more traditional, like a firefighter saving you from a burning house. Let’s try that one next time, okay? No more time traveling Knights._

“I never said I was _originally_ from the 16th century,” Kylo offered by way of explanation. “My partner and I got marooned there. We are trying to make it far enough ahead in time in your civilization to procure tech sophisticated enough to make it back, um, home.”

“You’re an alien.” Hux sat cross legged on the bed in front of Kylo, mirroring his position like a slender ginger shadow. At this point he was just tired. _Enough, brain. You were right. I am completely insane. Please call a responsible adult to handle this situation_.

“Well, technically we are the same species. My lineage is just much older then yours,” Kylo shrugged.

“I need coffee,” Hux said. He crawled off the bed and turned toward the door. When he got to the doorway, he looked back. Kylo was still sitting on the covers, fiddling with the edge of the sheet. Hux heaved a sigh and wandered back over to him. He reached out and grabbed him around the wrist, tugging.

“Come on, figment,” he said, as Kylo unfurled and stood up. “Let’s go get some caffeine.” Kylo frowned, following him down the hall.

“I am not a figment, Hux,” he said with a huff.

“Sure,” Hux said. “That’s just what a figment would say.” He dragged the Knight into the kitchen and left him at one of the stools while he got out his coffee pot and searched for beans. He groaned when he discovered that the bag contained about three coffee beans and tossed it the counter with a grunt. He looked over at Kylo.

“Feel like experiencing a 21st century Earth city?”

“Yes,” Kylo responded warily. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I just need coffee.”

“You’re acting strange,” Kylo persisted.

“For a creature of my subconscious, you are very critical.”

Kylo gave him an exasperated look. “I am not a figment of your imagination.” Hux just shrugged and walked back to the bedroom for a change of clothes. Before he even got to the door he started to feel weak, like a fever was creeping into his bones.

“Dammit,” he hissed. Hux went back to the kitchen and grabbed Kylo by the wrist again, dragging him along. The Knight sat on the edge of the bed while Hux changed with the bathroom door slightly ajar, just enough to not feel sick, but still have some privacy. _This is ridiculous. If he is imaginary, I should be able to change in front of him._

Hux emerged, dressed in clean clothes and with his hair somewhat styled, though not with his usual care. He motioned for Kylo to follow and they made it back out to the living room. The Knight’s sword was sheathed in its scabbard and was leaning against the wall where Kylo had finally placed it last night after all the shirt grabbing. Kylo wandered over to the couch and sat down to pull on his boots, grunting as he slipped his long feet inside and lashed the boots up his legs to fit securely just below the knee.  

“You look very post-apocalyptic,” Hux said, his head on one side. “It suits you, actually.”

“Thank you?” Kylo said, raising his eyebrows. The Knight looked at the armor scattered on the floor by the couch. “Judging by the way you are dressed, I don’t need any of this.” Hux just shrugged.

“It’s going to be cold though. You need a jacket. None of mine will fit you…” Hux scanned Kylo from head to foot, taking advantage of the excuse to do so. “I do have something that might work. Follow me.”

Hux led them back to the bedroom once again. He rummaged through his closet and drawers until he found what he was looking for and tossed it to Kylo. The Knight held it up, sideways, trying to figure out what it was and how to put it on.

“Here,” Hux said, stepping forward and taking it back to rearrange the black cardigan so Kylo could slip into it. It was a heavy, flexible knit, and stretched enough to accommodate Ren’s broad frame. Hux folded back the cowl neck and stood back to observe the result. “Well,” he said. “That looks a whole lot better on you than it ever did on me.”

“It’s soft,” was Kylo’s comment. He stroked his own arms, marveling in the luxurious feeling of cashmere.

“Careful, or you’ll get addicted,” Hux laughed. Kylo’s eyes were wide as he looked at himself in the full length mirror.

“This makes me look more like used to. Before,” he said.

“Before?” Hux asked. Kylo let out a small laugh.

“A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away,” Kylo responded, shaking his head at his reflection in the mirror.

“Alright, Merlin, let’s go to Starbucks.”

Hux grabbed Ren’s leather gloves as they headed past the kitchen. They had black scale armor on the backs, but it sort of went with the whole look. He handed them to the Knight and pulled on his own boots and coat. They looked like creatures out of completely different fashion magazines. Hux smiled. He double checked the contents of his pockets. Wallet, keys, gloves… He wondered for a minute if he would need anything else when they checked him into the psychiatric hospital. He supposed not, and reached for the door handle.

This was the true test. After this he would know if he had really lost his mind and gone the way of a great uncle on his father’s side - who had claimed he could read people’s thoughts - or if there really was an alien staying in his apartment whom he had accidentally pulled through time and space. Hux took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Kylo was not a fan of the elevator. He was antsy as soon as it started to move, and he jumped the first time the chime sounded as they past a floor. Once they were at ground level, Kylo rushed out of the elevator doors and swung around, taking in the upscale lobby. Hux followed more slowly.

The doorman nodded at Hux and asked if he needed the car brought around.

“No thank you, we are just going to walk to Starbucks,” Hux replied, forcing a smile. This was it.

“ _We,_ sir?” the doorman asked, looking over Hux’s shoulder and obviously seeing no one there. Even though this was what he had been bracing himself for, Hux still felt like his heart was evaporating in a gust of steam. He was crazy, and Kylo was not real. “Do you mean that gentleman, sir?” the doorman asked, pointing to a spot in the lobby over to the far left.

Hux spun around. Kylo was attempting to unhook a computer from the guest courtesy station and was fiddling with the various cables, shaking his head in derision.

“It’s all so primitive Hux, how can you stand it?” he called over, waving a computer mouse over his head.

“The gentleman is welcome to use the guest computers, Mr. Hux, but we require that they remain in the lobby and connected, sir.”

Hux wanted to kiss the doorman and twirl him in a circle. First, he had to make sure.

“What would you call that style he’s wearing?” Hux asked, conspiratorially, as if Hux didn’t approve and needed a second opinion.

“Um, well, it is unusual, sir. Lots of, er, black. But that’s the style right now, isn’t it?”

Hux held out his hand and the doorman took it with a concerned look as Hux pumped it up and down.

“Kylo, leave that computer alone. I need coffee,” he called across the lobby. He was further reassured as several heads turned in the Knight’s direction, watching him with a mix of fascination and irritation as he dropped all the cables and strode over to Hux.

“Have a nice day, gentlemen,” the doorman said politely, opening the door for them both.

Hux had never been so happy in his life. He was not insane and Kylo was real. It was preposterous, ludicrous, impossible.

He led him through the streets, making sure Kylo stopped instead of walking out into traffic. Hux suddenly felt protective. This was no figment, but a living, breathing man. The thought of anything happening to him made Hux sick to his stomach. He found himself putting out his hand to prevent Kylo from getting too close to the street. Then he was lightly steering him by his elbow. Before he could progress to full out clinging to his arm they reached Starbucks and Hux sighed in relief, pulling open the door and letting Kylo walk in first.

Hux breathed in the smell of fresh coffee and a feeling of normalcy settled over him. He turned to Kylo and grinned.

“It smells good,” Kylo confessed.

“What do you want?” Hux asked.

“Uh,” Kylo’s eyes flicked all over the shop, not knowing where to settle. “I have no idea.”

“Sweet or bitter?”

“Sweet?” He answered, unsure.

“Do you like chocolate?”

“I don’t know.”

Hux considered him a moment. “Okay, let me order something for you. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to drink it.” Kylo just nodded, looking around with a bewildered expression on his face, obviously completely out of his element. Hux chuckled. “Please tell me you’ve been in a busy food shop before, in one of your past lives.”

“Well, yes, but, it’s been awhile.”

Hux ordered and then found them a table by the window. He went back up to the counter to collect the drinks from the barista and plunked Ren’s down in front of him.

“Alright,” Hux said, sitting down across from Kylo. “I need to know where you’re from, where you’re trying to get to, how you ended up with time travel technology, who your partner is, how I pulled you through time without meaning to, and what our next step is.”

Kylo raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his coffee. His eyes shot up to Hux’s face and his mouth dropped open. Hux laughed.

“Between cashmere sweaters and mochas, you won’t want to leave this century. But come on, answer my questions.”

“Alright,” Kylo answered, taking another sip. “From space, back to space, I half built, half stole the tech, my partner’s name is Snoke, you are Force sensitive and my soulmate, and you’re coming with me once I teach you how to help me open a fissure in time.”

They stared at each other. Kylo licked whipped cream off his upper lip.

“Soulmate?”

“That’s why you can’t leave the room without me,” Kylo explained.

“Of course. Totally reasonable,” Hux said sarcastically. “What’s _Force sensitive_?” Kylo looked at him like he was a complete idiot.

“Let’s just say, for now, that it’s a unique gift, that allows for connection. It’s more than that, but I think that explanation will help you the most for now.”

Hux growled in impatience. He wanted real answers and Kylo wasn’t telling him anything. “Kylo, I just…”

“Look, I know,” the Knight said, cutting him off. “I promise to answer all of your questions in depth. Right now though, I have a few questions for you.”

“Okay…”

“Do you have any living family?”

“No.”

“Do you love your work?”

“No.”

“Is there anything in your life you cannot give up?”

“Just you.” The answer was out before he could stop himself. He blushed and fiddled with his cup.

“That’s convenient,” Kylo answered, smiling over the edge of his coffee as he drank.

***

**Epilogue**

It took a total of three months to open a stable fissure in time. Not that bad, all considered.

Hux’s team of lawyers clearly thought he was crazy when he sold his claim of the firm. It was further confirmed he had lost his mind when he had some guy no one had ever heard of move in with him, by all accounts the very same week he sold out.

Kylo talked to him a lot about destiny and the Force. By the end of the first week, he had Hux half convinced that it was their fate to be together, “Why else would I have been dragged halfway across the universe and through time itself just to find you?” Kylo asked.

Learning how to harness the Force took a lot of very boring meditation. Hux knew he was making progress when suddenly the long sessions ceased being boring and became intense. He started to hear and feel the extra current of energy that had always been there at the corner of his mind. That feeling of weightless calm he had experienced in front of the painting could be called at will.

Working together over the course of several days and utilizing the rebuilt device from the painting, Hux and Kylo were able to step through the fissure. It felt as though all Hux’s atoms flew apart only to coalesce back into a solid body.

Snoke was waiting, shocked at first to see Hux, but then quick to put his skills as a strategist into work. The three men schemed and were able to steal enough tech to modify an engine aboard a space trawler and make it to a system inhabited by a more advanced forms of life. Finally securing a vessel capable of light speed, Kylo set their coordinates for what he called _home_.

“You know, you’d make a great general,” Kylo mused. “We should get you a ship.”

“You would make a great emperor,” Hux joked back.

“Snoke has already called dibs on Supreme Leader,” Kylo pointed out.

“Well, maybe we can get you a planet or something.” They laughed. Kylo put his arms around him and drew him close, scenting his hair and then kissing him.

“I’m serious about the ship, _General._ ”

“If you’re serious, then of course I will accept, _Lord Ren._ ”

 


End file.
